The Stranger
by awesomesen
Summary: Hokuto and Seishiro have one last meeting. [one shot]


* * *

She waits for him outside the grocery, casual, and watches him smile at the cashier before taking his bag. The bag is large and paper, and she watches as the woman stuffs it full of all manner of delicious looking vegetables (_tomato leek two onions green red yellow pepper_) and meat wrapped in white paper. He will almost certainly be cooking the dinner as a celebration, and she wonders how much he knows.

It is said that the people who look at their deaths calmly and without fear never wanted to live in the first place.

The glass doors slide open (_like ice_) and he leaves the shop, brown bag rustling against his chest. He looks at the sun and away from it, and sees her.

She is wearing pink for him, a pale pink dress that floats around her like (_falling petals_) a cloud, pale dress and ballerina's slippers. She has tied a green ribbon around her arm, lacing it and winding it and tying in above the wrist and below the shoulder, a bright vine and the only other color.

He sees her and smiles, but his eyes are cold like glass, both of them.

I didn't expect to see you here, he says, artificial cheer laced in his voice (_gold veins_) in a way that seems genuine to everyone who doesn't know better already; everyone but her.

She replies in the same false way, bright (_metal glare_) and cold. It was a coincidence; she lies, but what a pleasant one! They are two old friends, perhaps even old lovers, meeting on a sunny street. The smell of baked goods and lingering rain is in the air, and all around them are happy people. Some of them smile at the oddly dressed girl and the kind looking man; she forgives them for not knowing.

It is also said that ignorance is bliss.

Do you need help? she asks innocently, and he looks at her in an odd way. He is trying to guess her motives and intentions, but that doesn't matter. She doubts he'd understand, because he doesn't understand humans, but even if he does learn the how and why it will change nothing. Or perhaps he simply is curious as to the question -- whether or not there was a deeper meaning.

Not this time, she thinks, and asks if he wants help with the groceries instead. There is a time for deeper meanings, but now is not it. He smiles and thanks her but refuses her assistance politely.

Would you like to walk with me? he asks, because they both know what is coming.

They could pass as friends or lovers, as they walk down the street. She is bright, he is bright, and they are both happy but so very sharp, bits of glass in the sun. They talk about this and that and nothing, and since he never asks about Subaru, she never brings him up. There is a time for everything, and a comfort in delaying the inevitable.

I stopped by your apartment yesterday. Why didn't you say you were moving? she asks, and this is an accusation wrapped in a lie.

It slipped my mind, he lies, but you can see my new apartment now. It's very nice. It's just a little way from here.

I'd love to!

The people they pass smile. A nice young man in a suit, and a girl of high school age, walking and laughing as they talk, almost certainly close friends that love each other dearly. An illusion so thick they both almost believe it -- but then, they deal in illusions.

It's been almost a month, hasn't it? one of them says eventually, while they wait for a light to turn so they can cross the street. How's life treating you?

She doesn't care, he doesn't care, and the things they do care and wonder about remain unsaid. Invisible questions, heavy in the air (_like snowflakes_) and quiet.

He tells her about his veterinary practice; it is going well, well enough for him to consider moving to a larger store. She tells him about a new outfit she has bought, black and green. It hangs in her closet, it's lovely. He doesn't tell her about the dead animals, and she doesn't tell him that she'll never wear that dress and that just this morning she looked at it and tore the cloth (_lovely soft_) to bits and shreds, ripping and tearing until she couldn't see for tears. And when she had gone to fix her makeup, trace eyeliner on her eyelids, she had instead painted the black makeup on her skin her hands her face, stars and more stars until her body was a map and the water of the shower ran black.

She's already given up, and is graceful in her defeat.

She will die tonight, and yet she walks now with her killer and listens to him chat about one of his patients. She's always had such a sense of humor; people always say that is true. She can find the humor and joy (_there is joy so much joy right now everything is joy joy joy_) in anything. Even her killer.

So she smiles, and laughs, and stops walking because she needs to hold her stomach. She laughs and laughs until her mouth and stomach ache, laughs until she is also crying and he stops talking and walking and just watches her. He is not rude about it, nor is he smiling in hopes of catching the joke. He watches, vaguely interested and so very patient.

And in despite of it all, she gasps at last; we could pass as the best of friends!

There is a clock ticking out of sight and reach, and the second's hand has been going quicker and quicker lately, blurring in speed as the other hands inch then dash towards Midnight. What time is it now? She will be dead by tomorrow, and his clock will have started.

He smiles at last, softly and dangerously. His smile is real (_made of a rose_) and fond, but the rest of him is _(thorns_) not as sweet.

People might say we're in love, Seishiro says quietly, and in the middle of the street he leans down

_(falls down clock spring wound so tight_)

and

(_did i mention how much i like your dress?_)

kisses

_(did i mention how much i love)_

Hokuto.

* * *

She declines his invitation to join him for dinner; she has other plans. Just before he excuses himself, adjusting the paper bag in his hands one last time, she interrupts.

The night is supposed to be clear, she says, perfect for a walk in the park.

That sounds lovely, he replies.

I'll meet you tonight.

* * *

(_she thinks of it as a kiss from a stranger_) 


End file.
